


Masquerade

by AnonAnton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Drunk Dean, M/M, Masks, Not quite prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel meet for the first time while Dean is on the verge of a drink and drug induced anxiety (or panic?) attack.</p><p>There is mysteriousness and masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236238) by [ShastaFirecracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShastaFirecracker/pseuds/ShastaFirecracker). 



> So, I feel the need to explain this, because, without context I worry this piece won't make sense. But I want you to give it a chance. So, if you don't get it; there's notes at the bottom. 
> 
> If I write anything else to go with this I may remove the notes?

Steam swirling, candles guttering. The sweet smell of sour sweat. Lights glittering like fireworks in a lightening storm. A blue-fire alcoholic tang sinking in to his chest, curling through and beyond his solar plexus. The deafening beat assaulting his ears making them bleed silence in to his mind. Darkness and velvet, lace and satin. Softness brushing his hand, sending sparks up his arms. Stop, start, nudge, dodge. Nausea rising, spinning, laughing. Too much perfume. Red lips grinning, hidden faces grimacing. Red face, black face, grotesque all around. 

Blank white face in the crowd staring. Unmoving. 

Hands touching, groping feeling. Eyes behind masks, squinting, leering. Not you. No. Skirts rustling. Tall men watching, drinking, shouting. Cold air catching. Stars are judging. Cold back perspiring, gloved hands wringing. Vision obscured behind his own anonymity. Choking on hot smoke going down. Shivering like sea sickness induced. Buffeting bodies, moth balls and clammy. Golden hair piled, red hair swaying. Glasses chinking. Bosoms heaving, corsets cinching, shoes pinching. Pain and flirting.

Expressionless porcelain face. Twin black eyes, blankly watching.

Him.

Air, wind, breath, breeze, space. Please.

Silence.

Hands holding, not gripping, not groping. Face is tilting, concern exuding.

Calmness spreading. Oasis of reason residing. Calamity averted, humans diverted. 

Just him and an unsmiling, smiling alabaster mask. The stars approving, neon sky fading. Can't stop staring. Poison slowing, not leaving, just dimming.

Silence suggesting. Black holes for eyes, like supernovas, leading. Hoping, hinting. Simply trusting. Following. With no words, pleading. Lustful, panting. Finally smiling. Masked one still concealing. Cold clean features, lightly touching. Moistened lips opening. Eyes like night, glinting. Finger tips caressing. Gently pressing. Silence is deafening. Phantom beats pounding in eye sockets made for seeing. Raised to heavens, begging. Needing. Pearl face, or bone face, fringed in black hair. Wispy, fluttering. Breathing filtered though permanently closed lips. Impassively promising. Asking? 

A Perfectly carved angel. A falling angel. Angel falling.

To his knees.

Hands to thighs gripping, arresting, caressing. Eyes back to sky, deep dark and thrumming. Marble face lifting. No, lifted; facing up. True face hidden, hiding, touching, kissing. Strong hand enveloping. Dry lips rasping, licking. Ecstasy increasing. Laser beams shooting. Two faced man taking. Sucking, lapping, loving. Diamond atmosphere cracking. Ground shaking, quaking, breaking. Groaning, grunting, coming, sighing. Smiling. No, grinning. Angel still kissing, tugging. High prevailing.

Hand reaching. Mask and man ascending. Shy half smile lifting. Blue eyes, like crystal, like oceans, like stormy sky. Scared. Worried, fearful. Questioning. Compress air between them. No fear needed. Remove anonymity. Bare face to blinding visage. Blue eyes widening. Lips to lips, beautiful, breathtaking. Can't breathe again, but gladly given. Reassure. Adore. Beautific dawn breaking, heart soaring, man is eye crinkling, smiling, laughing. Leaving? No, leading, returning.

Back to humanity swelling. Noise crescendoing. Lighting stabbing. No one caring. Writhing mass stealing, taking, removing. Lost, alone, no hand to hold, angel gone, heart breaking. Nausea returning, gripping, hurting. Blank face in the crowd not looking or watching. Dark hair, blue eyes, not there, pleading, needing. Door closing. Dawn ending. Mirror breaking. Life stopping. Poison eating, killing, destroying. 

Angel flown, devil dying alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was inspired by another fic, but obviously I've changed it a lot.
> 
> If you're having trouble picturing what's going on Dean is at a masquerade ball. Drugs have been taken. I will decide if that was purposeful or not if I write more. Imagine the darkness of The Labyrinth's and the BBC's 'Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norell" ball scenes. Dark, too many people, strange faces etc.
> 
> A couple of songs also gave some inspiration.
> 
> Archers of Loaf – White Trash Heroes  
> Father John Misty – Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings
> 
> Labyrinth – Masqarade scene  
> BBC's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell – Ball scenes
> 
> Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler by ShastaFirecracker (A03)
> 
> -
> 
> I won't say no to feedback etc. Probably going to write a 2nd half to this at the least, but we'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

Wrist tugging. All unheeding. Depression deepening. Wasps buzzing. Angel deserting. Devil unravelling. Wrist tugging. Tugging! Waist encircled, clear crystal water offered. Blank angel face recovered. Devil exultant. Unheard words, felt, rumbled. Mask to mask, chest to chest. Blank black eyes beseeching, holes in the mask enticing. Leaving, leading, dragging, keeping. Hold. Silence returning, ears drumming, pounding.

Sky opening. More words rumbling. What are they saying?

Nodding. Agreeing?

Agreeing to what? Colours fading. Swirling halting. Hand still holding.

More rumbling. High dwindling.

Finally.

“Are you coming?” Blank face still watching.

Hand is reaching. Lifting the man's mask. Again.

Blue eyes glittering. That hadn't been a dream then.

“Where are we going?” The man turning, smiling, frowning.

“Away from here? You said you needed air.” Had he? Well, he did. All the people back there... 

“Wait. Angel, wait.” “Why do you keep calling me angel?” He had? “Your mask. Like a stone carved angel.” “Well then Devil.” His mask. Still in his hand. “I think we should leave.” Eyes crinkling.

Hand holding, leading. Again. When will this bad high completely go? Ears still stabbing, eyes still stobeing. But, angel acquired? A blue eyed, blank faced angel. No not blank faced. Exultant. Joyed. Pleased. Overwhelmed? Surprised? Not all bad, then.


End file.
